


Río de La Vida

by DarkShadows93



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: All Dante wants is to be a good boy, Angst, Family Feels, Gen, Limbo, Possible Aquaphobia, Visions, feels in general, ghost children
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-03-31 19:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13981665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadows93/pseuds/DarkShadows93
Summary: There were two places that were forbidden for Miguel to go to as a child. One was the Plaza until the ban on music was lifted. The other was  El Río de La Llorona- the river of the Weeping Woman. The River was named from the story of La Llorona, the weeping woman who killed her children out of jealousy from her husband but out of grief died while waiting for her children to come back. She never made it to the Land of the Dead, her spirit haunts the river until her sons would come back to her. Until that day, she would take young children and drown them in the river.It was the one rule Miguel always obeyed. But rules are supposed to be broken.... regardless if they wanted to do it or not.





	1. La Llorona

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, 
> 
> So I decided to jump into a new fandom thanks to some of my friends on the Ao3 facebook group. This is just the rough idea I had after watching Coco for the first time last week with my sister. Here are a few notes:
> 
> I have a little Spanish background but I'm rusty at it. I took four years of Spanish in High School and one course in College but never became fully fluent in it like I want. So any tips or advice are graciously welcome. 
> 
> Thanks to my new beta: Grace_Under_Pressure for glancing at this chapter and agreeing to beta reading my story. 
> 
> I'm going to aim to update weekly or at the least biweekly. I have the second chapter done so that should be up by next week at the earliest. 
> 
> Thanks!

 

There were two places that Miguel was told never to go to as a child. One was the Mariachi Plaza where music filled the air and at the time was forbidden due to his great-great _abuelta_ 's banishment of the glorious sound. The other was _El Río de La Llorona_ , the river of the Weeping Woman. When música was welcomed back within the house, the river was not.

The river was said to be cursed by a spirit from years ago way before _Mamá_ Imelda and _Papá_ Héctor were even born. It was said that _La Llorona_ was a woman named Maria who was born to a small poor family near the river. Even though she did not have the wealth, she was blessed with beauty instead. Her beauty caught the attention of both the wealthy and poor men of Santa Cecilia. During the day, she spent her time with the poor while in the evening she wore a long flowing white gown to thrill the men who deeply admire her at small gatherings in the plaza. Though one man did manage to capture her heart. He gave her his heart and spoiled her with lavish gifts. She fell in love and she married him that following summer still wearing that white gown.

As years went by, Maria fell more in love with the man. She bore him two sons who were able to carry on their proud name. She was living her fairy tale dream. But one day, Maria noticed that he had started to change. The lavish gifts had stopped and he was never home. He would go out chasing women and come home after months being away drunk, the smell of tequila radiating from his skin. His time away from home would grow longer and longer leaving Maria to grow depressed and lonely for the man did not seem to care for her anymore. She would walk in on him telling their sons that he was to leave her for a more wealthy woman and to stay away from the poor. It broke her heart and she then started to grow jealous of her sons.

One day, Maria took her sons on a walk along the river. She let the boys walk ahead of her as her lonely heart pushed them away from her. Her husband riding an extravagant carriage with a woman at his side pulled up to them. She expected that perhaps he would notice her but as it has been for years, he only talked to them. A burning rage pulled at her heart as the carriage pulled away. The boys stopped as they waited for their mother not knowing what was going to happen to them. Maria charged at them in a jealous rage and tossed them into the river. Once they both faded into the stream, Maria realized what she had done and climbed towards the bank only to find that it was too late. She had killed her sons. In a wave of grief, Maria ran from the river, screaming and wailing about her sons.

Maria, heartbroken and sick with grief from her actions stood by the river day and night, mourning for her sons and prayed that they would come back to her. Her white gown grown torn and stained as she knelt along the river praying for her sons. Maria refused to eat, growing thin as if she was a walking skeleton. On the day of her death, Maria was found walking near the water's edge, her wailing filled the nighttime air. Her body weak from exhaustion and grief, Maria fell into the river and died. When she woke up she was at the gates of the Land of the Dead, her heart weeping for joy because at last, she had a chance to see her sons. But the guards told her that her sons were not there out of fear of her rage towards them. Heartbroken, Maria turned her back away from the Land of the Dead and crossed the Marigold bridge to become a spirit of the land.

It was said that walks along the river still wailing about her sons at night. She began weeping and wailing filled the air and became the curse of the night. People began to refuse to go out at night and children had gone missing when they were seen walked along or near the river. Rumored to have been killed by _La Llorona_ and their bodies were never found again.

Miguel shutters as his _Abuelita_ tells them the story of _La Llorona_ before they left the _plazá._ His skin crawled as he remembered when _Mamá_  Imelda sang about the myth at the Sunlight concert on _Dia de La Muertos_. Cocorita giggled at the end with her naive childish sense of the world. She would never believe his story even if he tried. She would never believe what he had experienced almost two years ago with his _familia_. From bringing music and the memory of their great-great-grandfather back into their lives to the downfall of De La Cruz. She would be the first Rivera child to grow up never knowing what is like to not have music. Perhaps the Land of the Dead and Vitamins, the story _La Llorona_ would be nothing more than a myth.

 

In a world where stories like vitamins and the Land of the Dead were real, Miguel really hoped that the story about _La Llorona_ one was not.

  
*~~~*

“Now Cocoita, listen to me. Stay by my side, _comprede_?” Miguel looks down to his litter sister holding her hand tightly as he adjusted the strap of the white ivory guitar on his back, “There are a lot of people out there and the last thing I need to for you to be lost.”

“ _Si... si_ Miguel,” Cocoita replied happily as he skips alongside him. She loved it when it was _plazá de música_ day. A day where she could leave the comforts of the _casa_ and spend time with her big brother and listen to him play their _Papá_ Hèctor and his own music. It was her favorite time of the week and she even desired to be a _músico_ like him one day. A silly childhood dream. “I'll be right next to you.”

“Good.” Miguel grins as he stops to hear the music filling the air of the plazá, colorful streamers hanging off of stands, flower petals littering the ground as Mariachi bands played their songs. Once there was a huge statue that stood in the center of the _plazá_ \- a statue of a man who used to be called the Hero of Santa Cecilia and the greatest _músico_ of all time-- Ernesto de La Cruz. Miguel had told Cocorita the story of De La Cruz and how he stole _Papá_ Hèctor's music to become famous. He told her how he and _Máma_ Coco managed to bring down his fame and honor and hopefully caused him to be forgotten in the Land of the Dead. But there was no use to trying to bring memories of a man who killed your family and to think it all started once they tore down his statue.

Miguel smiles as he looks down at his little sister “Come on! We're almost there!” she laughs in response as he swoops her up into his arms and ran as fast as she could towards the plazá. It seemed so much bigger since they had removed the statue of De La Cruz, they replaced it with more flower beds making it more colorful and bright. The afternoon crowd was slowly starting to come in for their _almuerzos_ , Miguel smiled as he sat Cocoita down on a bench near the gazebo “Perfect.” He pulled the guitar from his back and sat down beside her, his hand reaching down for his pack at his side “Tamale?”

“ _Si! Si!_ ”Cocorita responds happily clapping her hand as Miguel hands her a small tamale, “ _Muchas Gracias,_ hermano _._ ” she thanked as she stuffed her face quickly of the sweet tamale

Miguel shook his head laughing as he played a small cord on his guitar, “ De Nada, Cocorita.”

They both sat in silence as Miguel played a small cord on his guitar. He watched his fingers as they gently went from note to note down the neck of the ivory guitar. It felt right to him. He closed his eyes as he started with the first note of the song of his new song that he had written shortly after Máma Coco had passed.

“ _Once there was a night without music,_  
_Once there was a day without light._  
_I used to watch her go dancing but now she can't stand without fright._

_For once there was a night without music_  
_Like there was once there was a day without light_  
_I used to watch her go dancing_  
_but now she can't stand without fright_

_When she went dancing, the stars would glisten_  
_Música filled the air, and dreams would come out to play_  
_Dancing with beauty, her smile would brighten and her eyes would be just like the stars_  
_But one night she stopped dancing_  
_and she waited for him to return._ ”

Cocorita swayed with the song taking small bites of the tamale she had left in her hand and watched as passerby dropped small coins and bills inside an empty can near his feet. It was like Miguel was in a trance. Nothing mattered to him but his music. She watched as he played each note with his eyes closed as if he was trying to visualize the song. His voice had gotten deeper in the past year but it made the raw emotion of the song ever so present. Just seeing his face and how concentrated he was at it made Cocorita happy that she could join along.

But a glowing hand stole her attention, her amber eyes growing wide as watched as it swayed with the music like Christmas lights. Her face formed a small 'o' as she reached out for the hand and took it allowing it to pull her from her seat and her tamale to fall from her hand.

Cocorita left silently with the man with the glowing hand, never once looking back towards her brother as they merged with the crowd of the plaza.

_“She sat there and waited for him_  
_but years went by, she never lost hope_  
_The stars would slowly come home_  
_For dancing was the root of her life_

_When she went dancing, the stars would glisten_  
_Música filled the air, and dreams would come out to play_  
_Dancing with beauty, her smile would brighten and her eyes would be just like the stars_  
_But one night she stopped dancing_  
_and she waited for him to return_

_The night she stopped dancing_  
_Was the night the music stopped_  
_and the days were filled with the dark_

_One day, she died and there was a sight_  
_Her Papá waited out by the door_  
_He greeted her softly and took her hand to point at the stars_  
_She closed her eyes and felt in her heart_  
_as Música swelled from inside_

_And just this once_  
_She danced one last time_ ”

Miguel finished out the song with one last cord and noticed the small can full of tips that he didn't even notice was there. He shrugs as he picks up the can and dumps the contents into his jacket its pocket, “See that, Cocorita? I didn't even have to-” He looked to where his sister had been sitting only to find the half-eaten tamale discarded on the ground, “Cocorita?! Coco?”

Miguel quickly grabbed the guitar without a second thought and ran deep into the crowd, “Coco? Coco?!” he pushed people aside, his heart pounding in his chest as he scanned for the little girl within the crowd. He started to panic as he rushed into the center of the plazá spinning slowly as he ran his hands through his hair, “Oh no... oh no... oh no... oh no...” he muttered to himself as he watched people coming and going from the plazá. Where could she be? Where could she had run of- Miguel froze as he watched a man with a blue glowing hand walk her sister out of the plazá with the El Río de La Llorona on the horizon, “No... Cocoita! Coco, stop!” he ran after the man and his sister yelling at her to let go of the man's hand. But she never responded, her eyes seemed empty of anything like she was a mindless zombie from those movies he used to watch all the time.

The Man itself did not seem right. His skin held a blue hue and his eyes seemed to white like a ghost. Miguel reached for his sister but the man hissed in response “Don't interfere. This is my child now.”

“No! This is my sister! Let her go!” Miguel begged as the riverbed was starting to approach and the man's clothing slowly transformed into a long flowing ruined white gown, his face morphed into a beautiful female with an elongated and skeletal thin face, her long black hair kissed the bottom of her back and flew with a gentle breeze. Miguel stared in a wonder of the transformation before him. He had met the spirit of La Llorona. She was real. She was not a myth like vitamins and the Land of the Dead. La Llorona was real and she was about to kill his sister “Let my sister go!”

“Leave me be!” She hissed as she ripped his sister from his hands and tossed her into the river without any emotion.

“Coco!” Miguel cried as he tore his guitar and pack from his body and jumped into the river. The current was rough as he felt himself being pulled from the weight. He emerged to the surface coughing as he looked among the waves for his sister “Coco!” He gasps as the water took him under once more, his eyes widening as watch his sister kicking and screaming under the waves. Miguel fought against the current, his legs burning as he pushed against the waves. He could see her coming closer. Miguel wrapped her in his arms and swam towards the surface. “I got you...” he coughed as Cocoita clung to him for safety.

He swam towards the riverbed, his body growing more tired and weary from the rough waters. They both sighed loudly as they laid against the sand. Cocoita started coughing and crying while Miguel pulled her farther away from the water

“it's okay, Cocoita. No one is gonna hurt you aga-”

“FOOL!” La Llorona hissed as she raised up from the water, her long black hair dripping with water, her eyes red with rage. Her arm raised from the water's edge and grasps Miguel's ankle and pulled him back into the water “This child belonged to me!!”

Before Miguel had a chance to scream out for help, his head was already under the raging waters. 


	2. Good Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to the overwhelming support, I decided to post the chapter a few days early.
> 
> Thank you all for the support that I have received so far. I honestly had no idea that the reception for it would be positive for a story that I thought would be... let's just say bad.
> 
> Also thanks to my beta Grace_Under_Pressure for being awesome!

 Dantè is such a good boy. A very good boy indeed. 

  
He could tell when something was wrong with Miguel. So wrong that it chilled his spine in the Land of the Dead and crossed the Marigold bridge to the Land of the Living just to check on his boy. He was such a good boy to his master. He sniffed the air as he returned to  the living world, his boy’s scent was faint as if drowned by water. If he wanted to remain a good boy he must hurry. Miguel was in trouble.   
  
His nose was to the ground, sniffing and tracking. Dantè knew he did not have a good nose but for Miguel he would do anything. So he tried to find his master. As he neared the Rivera home, the smell growing fainter he barked loudly letting his family know that something was wrong.

  
He ran as fast as he could towards the   _plazá_ ,  in-between legs of humans who once threw shoes and stones at him. He was such a good boy then too. He barked even louder as he heard Miguel scream his sister's name. He was so close but the water was drowning out his scent.   
  
He had to save his boy.   
  
Dantè growled as he stopped near the bank. He could see His master's head bobbing in and out of the water, his face paling as he kept getting pulled under. Dantè ran along the bank, trying to find the perfect spot to jump. His boy needed him. He couldn’t risk missing him.  On a small hill, Dantè waited for Miguel to appear once more from the water before he jumped. Miguel's pale limp form floated towards the water, not fighting against the current. This was not good. Dantè howled loudly before he jumped into the raging river and swam towards his master.  
  
Dantè swam towards his master, whining as he bit onto his shirt and started to drag him towards the shore. All he wanted was him to be safe. It was not time to join the dead yet. His body didn't seemed fazed by the current. He could hear his parents yell for him and his sister crying. This was not good. _Wake up Miguel._ _Wake up_. Dantè dragged him on the shore, far away from the water's edge, hoping that he would wake up now that he was safe. He licked his master's face, but the boy limply turned his face away. His lips blue and his face as white as a sheet. Dantè whined loudly as he kept licking Miguel's face. He hovered his nose over his mouth in hope that there was a subtle breath. But there was none. Dantè whined even louder, howling almost as licked Miguel's face and started jumping on his chest. His howling grew louder as the more he pounded on his chest. But nothing. Miguel was on the verge of death and there was nothing to stop it.   
  
“Miguel?!   _Dondè estás hijo_?” Dantè could hear his master's father yell for him, nearly drowned by his sister's crying, “Miguel?!”  
  
There was nothing else he could do. His familia  must take over in saving his master's life. One last howl and Dantè started dragging him towards his family in hope that he would wake up. With each drag, Dantè felt his heart starting to break. He wasn't good boy after all. He would never be the good boy he always aim to be.   
  
“Miguel! Miguel! _Dios Mio_! Somebody help! Somebody call a doctor!”  
  
Dantè pulled as hard as he could, pulled with all his might in hope it was not too late. If he couldn't be a good boy to his master then he must be a good boy to his _familia_. But as he approached his master's family, his load seemed lighter. It made him faster. It was not too late after all. Dantè whined loudly as he pulled Miguel's body not seeing where he was going and paying no mind to the golden flower petals surrounding him. Nothing else mattered to him but Miguel. Not even death itself would stop him for making his master live.   
  
“whoa whoa! _Què paso?_ ”  The guard at the gate questioned as Dantè pulled him through, his brown eyes widen as he watched the _alebrije_ dragging a body towards the city. But it was not the fact that it was a boy he probably lead to the Land of the Dead from the moment of his passing. It was the appearance of the boy itself. Half of it was living while the other half was dead. The boy looked familiar from almost two years ago. Indeed he was, he was Miguel, the boy from The World of the Living.   
  
“ _Dios Mio_....”  He breathed loudly as he rushed to follow the _Alebrije_ , “Wait! Wait!” The guard struggled to pull out his radio to alert the Office of Family Reunions. As he brought it up to his face to speak, the _alebrije_ was gone.   
  
The Land of the Dead was still of color and music as it was when he first arrived as a normal dog. The smell of food filled the air and excitement was around every corner. Trolley running their lines on their normal busy times. The world of the Dead was still alive and well. Dantè stopped as he heard the bells of the trolleys, his eyes widen as he looked down at Miguel and the Land of the Dead. No. No it can't be. He shouldn't have died. It was not time for him to join his _familia_. He was definitely not a good boy.  Dantè whined loudly as nuzzled Miguel's face only to see half it were like ones of the dead . There had to be a way to stop this. He howls as he grabs Miguel's shirt and takes flight. He had gotten better at his flying in the past two years. so it there was anything he was good at it was this. He must try to be a good boy again.   
  
The landscape was never ending from the air. He knew he had to hurry. Three blocks. Two blocks. One blocks.  Dantè landed on the cobblestone  outside _La Casa de Rivera_ and howled with all his might. He had to get their attention. He must become a good boy. He cried loudly, scratching at the door and pulling Miguel towards the door. Someone had to be home.   
  
“ Dantè? What is it?” Coco asked as she slowly opens the door to see the _alebrije_ howling outside the door.

Confused she walked outside, her eyes staring at the small boy wearing a ever so familiar red sweater and dimpled cheek. His eyes were closed, his lips were still slightly blue and his color was flushed. He was drenched to head to toe, his clothes cold to the touch as a pool of river water formed beneath them, “ _Dios Mio_...” She breathed out as she touched the flesh cheek of his grandson, “Miguel? What on Earth are you doing here? Wake up, _hijo_. Wake up.” She gently turned his face towards her and gasped loudly. It was if she was staring in a mirror of her grandson. Split perfectly in half as reflections of what would come. One side held the unconscious flesh form of her grandson while the other held the face of the dead. Bright white bone with colorful markings that were near identical to her Papá. Bright shades of green, pink, yellow, and blues. It stood out against the black and white bone. She pushed herself away as she ran to the door with tears in her eyes. Only God would know what could have brought her grandson to the Land of the Dead trapped in Limbo. Trapped in a state between life and death.  
  
“ _Máma!  Papá! Mira! Mira! Es Miguel! Es Miguel!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure when the next update will be. I'm only about 1/4 or so done with it.
> 
> Happy Reading!


	3. Familia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again to my lovely beta Grace_Under_Pressure for being my beta. I don't know what I'll do with out you!
> 
> Thanks for reading!

He felt like he was floating on a cloud. His body weightless and cold. His eyes opened to pure darkness, his entire being felt like it was being pulled away from his roots.

Miguel took a few steps into the darkness, the world around him turning into an endless river. A voice calls to him.

The voice of _La Llorona_.

*~~~~*

“Miguel?!” Luisa called out towards her son as she slid down the small embankment towards the shallow riverbed, her eyes widen as she watched the dirty dog from the streets run off leaving her son helpless along the shore. Socorro was screaming in fear as she crawled away from the water. She ran towards her child, grasping her between her arms, “Miguel.” She called out as she rushed to her son and trying to soothe the crying child, “Miguel.” She sat Socorro down at her side as she lifted Miguel's head onto her lap, “Miguel? Hijo... wake up.... Enrique?!” tears welled at her eyes as she saw blue color his lips, his face paling and his chest unmoved.

“Enrique, he's not breathing!” She cried as her husband pocketed his cellphone and ran to her side, “He's not... _Dios Mio_... save him.... JUST SAVE HIM.”

Enrique bore a face full of cool panic. He stared at his hands before looking at his boy, hoping that the hands that had built many shoes would save him. He gave a silent prayer towards the sky as he started the chest compression. Luisa held onto Socorro stopping her as she tried to crawl towards her brother. Tears seared at her eyes as she stared at the unconscious form of her son. Was it too late? Would this be the day where they would have to add a _fotó_ of their son on the _ofrenda_?

“Come on...” Enrique grunted as he tried to give his son the breath of life, they could hear sirens approaching the river. “Breathe, Miguel. Breathe.”

Luisa felt her entire world coming to a stop. The only sounds radiating around her were the terrified cries of her daughter, the sounds of rushing water even though it appeared still, and Enrique trying to revive their son. The world with all of its chaos reminded still around her. She took a long drawn out breath as she kissed Socorro's head, closing her eyes as she rest her head against her daughter's.

_Ancestors.... save him. Just save him...._

A cough erupted from Miguel's body as water escaped from his lungs as the ambulance pulled down towards the River. “There. There....” Enrique whispers as he turned Miguel's body to the side as he coughed out the water that filled his lungs. His lips and face were slowly losing their blue tinge and returning to their proper color. His body remain still, his eyes closed. His breathing was coarse  and uneven, a sign that still did not comfort them.

Enrique held onto his wife and daughter as the _paramèdicos_ attended to their son,their bodies tightening as they lifted Miguel's limp body onto the gunnery. Her heart ached, shattered, feeling her body pull to be near her son, her be _bè_. She never meant for harm to come to him. She never wanted him to get hurt. It wasn't her fault. It wasn't his fault.

“Come, Luisa.... he needs us...” Enrique helps her back onto her feet, he gently kisses Socorro's head, “Once she has calmed down... we'll -”

“No... I just want to care for our son.” Luisa whispers as she climbs aboard the ambulance, tears swelling in her eyes.

Enrique nods silently as he watches his wife and daughter climb into the ambulance, the doors shutting behind them before the vehicle drove  off into distance. He told himself that he must remain strong. But for how long? How long could he bare to watch his wife, his daughter and his son suffer? Enrique was a man of high hopes. He was a man who always believed the sun would still shine even on the darkest days. He had to when he had to convince Luisa to give up music when they were married. There were always dark days. He survived them.

As he walked towards the riverbed, his eyes watching as the water as he bent down to pick up Miguel's white ivory guitar. Enrique, too feared the river even as an adult. Childhood tales that still haunted him to this day. He closed his eyes as he felt his hands grasp the neck of the guitar. He must remain strong. He had to in order to survive.

But even he knew that the sun can't shine all the time.

*~~~*

“ _Máma! Papá! Mira! Mira! Es Miguel! Es Miguel!_ ” Coco cried as she ran back into the house, turning back to see Dantè still guarding the boy with his life.

“Miguel?” Imelda asked as she rushed to her daughter's side, she grabbed her shoulders and rubbed them, “Miguel? Where? How?”

“I don't know, _Máma_.” Coco shook her head as she opened the gate to the courtyard, watching as Dantè was pounding on his chest, a trickle  of water escaping from the boy's  throat,his breath so shallow that from afar it appeared he was not breathing, “Se-”

“Miguel? What is Miguel doing- Hèctor!” Imelda gasped loudly as she rushed to her grandson's side, holding his cold face in her hands. A wave of relief filled her tired bones as she looked to her daughter, “We must hurry. He is still on the edge of death. This _alebrjie_ might have saved his life. Hèctor! _Ayuadame_! Hèctor!”

“ _Máma_... Do you think that is a good idea? You know how attached he is to Miguel...”

“How else are we going to get him in the house, Coco?”

“ _Si_ but-”

“ _Si_?” Hèctor peeked his head from the gate curiously, he sat his guitar against the wall. A slight panic rattled his bones as he took a step towards his wife and daughter. Something didn't seem right. Something was wrong “Imelda what's wrong _mi_ -” Hèctor's eyes widen as he caught sight of a ever so familiar red jacket. The panic grew as he took a few more steps, feeling his empty chest tightening as the image grew in front of him. A red jacket, a growing boy unconscious, lying in a pool of water. His face bearing the mark of the dead and the mark of the living. His eyes close tight, his face pale with blue lips. He knew who it was from the moment he saw the jacket. He felt his knees start to weaken, his body threatening to fall apart as he stumbled towards Imelda “Miguel?! What-Why-Ho-what happened?! His face! Why is his-”

“I know as much as you do Hèctor. _Por favor_ help us please.... we have to get him inside.”

How would help him when he was struggling to stay together? His knees shook  as he knelt l beside the boy, gently touching the dead side of his face. He was cold, so very cold. Hèctor's mind was tell him that he couldn't carry him, that he would fall apart at the seams and hurt him more but his _corazón_ told him that he could. He must help the boy who gave him his familia back. It took every ounce of strength he had to life the boy. Miguel was so light now. It was like lifting up a pillow regardless how much he had grown since his journey through the Land of the Dead. He was taller, leaner as he started to grown into his body. He could see it in his face how much he resembled him as a teenager. But his eyes drifted downwards to the markings on his skull. It wasn't too difficult to see the sweeping petals of color. It was the perfect match to his own.. What could have happened to the boy? He thought as he carried the limp body of his grandson through the threshold of their home.

“Take him to our room.” Imelda ordered as she rushed to open the door. At this point, the rest of the family started to stagger into the courtyard, their faces filled with a mixture of confusion, worry, and dread. This was a new for all of them.

“Oh Miguel...” Coco started to pray as she followed her _Papá_ at his heels. Hèctor tried to hide his emotions from his family as he glanced down at the boy. As the patriarch of the family, he must maintain the example of strength like Imelda does. No need to show emotion. No need to show weakness. But it was a difficult task to prove because of Miguel. The boy who saved his life after death.

If he had his heart, he knew it would probably shatter.

“Set him down. Hurry. Hurry.” Once he entered the room, Imelda shut the door to go control the rest of the family. Leaving just him in the room with Miguel. He knew that he couldn't stand there and stare at Miguel in his arms. He knew that if this would have happened two years ago that he wouldn't have been able to carry him. But he also knew that if it wasn't for Miguel he wouldn't be standing there carrying him to the bed. He was more grateful than he knew. As he laid him down on the bed, Hèctor felt his knees buckle and he fell upon them. He could only be strong for so long.

“What have you done, _hijo_?” He whispered as he slowly stood up to pull Miguel's dripping wet sweater from his body. As he pulled it away from his arms, a chill ran down to the depths of his bones as he saw the skeletal torso and right arm. Oh how he hoped it was just the face. No, Miguel was truly stuck in both in the living and the dead, “Miguel....”

He held the sweater close to him, feeling the sensation of the cool water dripping from his bones. He tried to think of ways this could happen but he knew that times for this could wait. He had to stop the chill. The zapatos and socks were pulled off and tossed near the window. Color seemed to return to his lips. His heart was beating strong. But yet, he did not wake.

He felt lost.

He didn't know what to do.

He was useless.

He brushed the boy's hair from his face and lowered his head near his lips. A small gush of warm hair touched his bones. A wheeze escaped his lips. He was struggling to breathe and he didn't know how to fix it.

“I..I don't know what to do. Help me, Miguel” he mutters as grasps the boy's still living hand. It was stupid to ask a boy who had nearly drowned (or what he assumed) to help. But there were so many things he had to say, “Miguel, I- I – wake up, _hijo_. ”

He could feel a dull ache form in his bones. So many questions. So many worries. Everything that plagued him had started to come crashing down upon his weakened bones. Hèctor sighs as he tired to push back the thought of Miguel dying. Was this how he looked when he was near death as poison pumped through his veins? Trapped in the Land of the Dead with half of a living face until the poison stopped his beating heart? This was not the fate for a child who had saved him from being forgotten. This was not the fate for any child. This was a fate that he would not wish upon anyone... not even his own murderer.

Hèctor rest his head against the firm mattress, in a mixture of prayer and flat out begging. No one deserves a fate like this. No one. He sat up as he heard scratching on the door, Imelda and Coco shooing away the _alebrije_ as they walked into the room with their own medical supplies.

“Any change?” Imelda asks as tries to set down her items but Dantè rushed in and tried to jump onto the bed.

Hèctor shook his head, “No. Not really”

“His color has returned a bit.” Coco pointed out as she followed in her mother's steps, “What could have happened to Miguel?”

“I...I... I- He-” Hèctor lowered his head as he picked up the drenched jacket, “I think he might have ... drowned.”

“Drowned?!” Both Coco and Imelda exclaimed as Hèctor raises his hands to try to calm them. But it doesn't seem to work. Both of the Rivera women pushed Hèctor out of the way as they tried to attend to the unresponsive boy. A pang of guilt hit him as he sat himself in the chair, he couldn't pull his eyes away from the boy. He felt helpless. He barely even knew him and he still felt helpless. It only took one night for a boy to make him whole again. A boy who gave him a life after death when he thought it was hopeless. _Dammit... what can I do? What can I do?_

Miguel was so full of life. It was unfair for a boy who risked his own life to preserve a life to face his own death so soon after. A selfless  act that he was willing to make just for him. He only knew him for a single night and he was willing to give up everything for a lonely skeleton with no family. Miguel had grown so much in one night. It takes a mature boy to make a choice like he did. How did he end up like this? A boy full of life, a boy he was looking forward to watch on _Dia de Los Muertos_ perform his own songs, to play the guitar that he was glad to be in his hands. Miguel had grown so much with him and he was so proud of him. So very proud. How did he end up in the Land of the Dead on the verge of death? How did he end up dying in front of him?

He had just got him back in his life and now he was going to lose him in life to join him in the death. It was too soon. Too soon.

“Let me take care of him!” He found himself blurting out with his head lowered in shame, his hands clenched up to prevent the aching feeling of him falling apart grew. He couldn't do this now. He had to be strong. He was always the it in life. He always had Ernesto be the one to guard him, and had watched as his friend flourished in the light. He was always the shadow, never the light. The minute he shined and tried to stand up for himself he was murdered. But there was ever a day to stand again, to be the light for someone else, it would be tonight.

“What?” Imelda paused slowly turning towards her husband, lowering her hands

“Let me care for the boy. I can't sit here and feel helpless, Imelda. I can't.... Miguel saved my life. He saved me from the final death. We have heard the stories of his actions.” Hèctor scrambled to his feet, nearly falling apart at the knees, “He brought down Ernesto, Coco you know that. I owe it to him. I'm not going to watch him die...and stand there on the sidelines. Everyone did that to me when I died. It’s not going to happen now. “

“ _Mamá_... he's right.” Coco whispered as she placed her hand on her shoulder, “We can do only so much... but-”

Imelda nods silently as she steps away from the boy, “He has to go back to the Land of the Living. He looks different than before... this is...just-”

“I will, Imelda.” Hèctor whispered as he kissed her cheek, his hands trembling as he tried to contain his own emotions, “Just let me try....” He couldn't finish the sentence but she knew what he had meant. She nods slowly before grabbing Coco's hand and leaving him in the room.

Dantè whines loudly as he nuzzles against Hèctor's leg before the músico pushed him away. Hèctor stared at the boy's face seeing the mixture of living and dead. What could he do? What can he do? He struggled to keep upright as leaned over him to hear the breathing. Slow. It was like he was struggling to breathe. Water still seeped from the corner of his lip in a small stream. Water still lingered in his lungs.

“Come on _chamaco_ .” Hèctor whispered as he pounded on Miguel's chest, like a child playing with a precious doll“Just live for me...”

*~~~~*

Miguel walked alongside the river's bed, watching as the water glowed  with intensity. He watched as small orbs of color danced underneath the surface. It was like watching flowers bloom or fireworks released in the night sky. It was so beautiful and yet so terrifying. The voice of _La Llorona_ turned into screams,  the water's current rushing and rising at his feet. Miguel looked forward, his brown eyes widening as two small boys holding their hands reached out towards the water as it raised up towards their hands. Miguel could feel his heart pounding as the current grew faster, the boy's bodies surely to be taken away. His legs starting to run, his hands reached out towards them to save them.

*~~~~*

It seemed hopeless. Hèctor was watching Miguel's body waste away in front of him. The left side of his face was slowly starting to fade into death. His body trembled as he started to pace around the room. Everything that Imelda and Coco had brought to help him were ineffective. He knew he wasn't a _mèdico_ but he had to at least try. Hèctor cursed himself as he watched Dantè whine loudly as he even attempted to save the boy.

“I can't- This- why can't I do anything?!” Hèctor knew he was punishing himself for something he had no control over. For many years, he had blamed his death on eating some questionable chorizo. For many years, he blamed himself for his death not knowing the full truth. Now, ninety-eight years, almost ten decades since his death, he was blaming himself for Miguel's.

At this moment, Hèctor didn't see Miguel's hand twitch.

*~~~~*

Miguel ran as fast as he could towards the boys. He could hear himself yelling out to them, trying to get them away from the water. But they fell deaf upon his calls. The water grew angry at his presence. The water rages at his feet, trying to pull him away. His eyes grew wide in shock as the elder boy touched the water and melted into the stream. The younger boy followed soon after. Miguel stopped suddenly, the water calming at his feet at the sight before him. He felt his entire body grow weak as he stumbled towards a single body face down in the water.

“No.” He whispered as he fell to his knees, quickly getting up as he reached out towards the body.

“No...” He whispered once more as the body grew father away from him. He pushed himself to run but the distance grew farther.

“Socorro...” Miguel finally whispered in fear of what was to come. The body suddenly appeared to him, long black hair spreading in the water like drops of ink. Miguel fell to his knees as he grabbed the body of his little sister, holding her close, “I'm sorry...” He whispered into her hair feeling her body grow light. “I'm sorry Coco...” He pulled back to wipe the tears from his face but was shocked to see Cocoita's body had changed.

“No!” Miguel screamed as he stared into his own skeletal face.

*~~~~*

Dantè jumped onto the bed the moment Hèctor had his back turned. He had saw his master's hand twitch with life. It may not be too late. Using his front two paws, Dantè pounded on his master's chest. Color quickly returning to his lips, the colorful patterns on his skull glowing with life. A breath rattled beneath his paws as a cough erupted from him as water expelled from his chest.

“No!” A weak voice rasped from him as turned his head away, the flesh side of his face solidifying once more but the skull still revealed.

“Miguel?” Hèctor quickly turned around in shock as Dantè licked his master's face as his weaken body struggled to open his eyes.

Hèctor quickly sat up the boy touching the revealed skull hoping that skin would replace it. But there was nothing. He was still dying in the Living World. Miguel coughed violently as he struggled to breath, it felt like there was a tube forced down his throat. Hèctor held onto him, patting his back as air filled his tired lungs

“It's alright, _hijo_...You're safe now.”

Miguel recognized the voice as he tried to control his tired body. He could feel sleep pulling him down as his body tried to recover the loss of air. He felt both warm and cold. He felt light as bones and heavy as stones. He couldn't place why.

“Imelda! Coco!”

He knew those names but why were they being called? Who was holding him? Miguel fought with all the remaining strength he had to slowly open his eyes. The world around him was blurred as it slowly came into focus like wearing a new pair of glasses. He struggled to keep his eyes open as he blinked to clear his vision. The first thing that cleared was a familiar face that he never expected to see again. A face he had thought he was too late to save. A shallow breath escaped him as black crawled into his sight

  
“ _Papá_ Hèctor?”


	4. Serenity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry that it took so long with the update. Let's just say life happen and death in the family also happened. I had the chapter finished but couldn't send it to her
> 
> Which thanks again to my lovely beta Calliope's Quill! She understands that life happens and tollierates my horrible grammar.

  _His brain scans are showing minimal activity, just barely enough to keep him alive. If he does by God himself wakes up... he will not be the boy you remembered...._  
  
The late afternoon sun started to seep from the windows of the tiny hospital room. Its delicate rays reflecting off of small pieces from the glass of fotós of family members, their everlasting eyes and smiles casting an eerie emotion throughout the room. The pearl white guitar sat untouched in a corner, waiting for its owner to grace his fingers across its strings once more. It seemed so unreal. All life seemed to be drained from the room. Luisa and Enrique sat in vigil beside the bed as their son laid unconscious, looking a mixture of both man and machine. The Doctor was right.  This was not the boy they remembered.   
  
Enrique held Luisa as she tried not to fall from the chair. Her silent sobs filled the room as she held onto her son's cold hand. Miguel had never felt this cold before, never felt so lifeless. Death seemed to linger in the room. The _alebrije_ would not take their son tonight or any night.   
  
“Miguel....” Cocoita whimpers as she stares through the small window in the arms of her _abuelita_ , watching her _Papá_ hug her _Mamá_ like when she fell and hurt her scrapped up her knee. She remembered her crying loudly and he came to her rescue. Was _Mamá_ hurt too? “ _Abuelita_? Why are _Mamá_ and _Papá_ sad?”   
  
“Oh...” Abue _lita_ quickly pulls herself away from the door and moves a small strand of hair from her face, “They're just worried _mija_ . Miguel is... He isn't feeling too well. _Muy enfermo_ . They just want to...” A smile formed on her aged face as she pinched her little-dimpled cheek, “Do you want some _dulces ? I_ 'm sure the shop downstairs has some...”   
  
Cocoita struggled to look over her _Abuelita's_ shoulders just to get one last view of her family, her own small little world. It didn't feel right for everyone to be sad. She was okay. She wasn't hurt and Miguel was just... sleeping. He looked like a sleeping robot. She didn't understand what was happening. Miguel was going to wake up. He had to wake up. He wasn't going to leave his baby sister. He wasn't going to leave her, at least she hoped not.  

  
*~~~~~~*

“ _Papá_ Héctor?”  
  
It was nothing more than a mere whisper. Quiet. Soft. Almost like a child speaking for the first time. Miguel blinked slowly, unsure what he was seeing. His body felt weak, unable to move. Every touch seared at his skin. He was warm and cold, heavy and light at the same time. His mind too weak to ask questions.   
  
Miguel tried to focus on the sight ahead of him. Everything was blurry except for him. Except for his _Papá_ Héctor. He wanted to think that his mind was playing tricks on him. Oh, how he wanted to think that it was just a dream. But the soreness of his body told him otherwise.   
  
“I...wasn't too late?” He breathed as his lungs seared with each breath, “You were ….”   
  
“ _Si, Si, mijo_ ...But you should rest, we can always talk later.”   
  
“Héctor ....” the black of unconsciousness started to seep into the corners of his vision, “Am I dea-.” Miguel couldn't finish the question as all of his energy escaped from him and he fell back into unconsciousness.   
  
“Miguel? Miguel?” Héctor shakes the boy gently to wake the boy but it seemed useless. Miguel was out like a light. But he knew what he was going to ask. He knew the pain behind the four words that he was going to ask, “Dammit...” he mutters as he lays the boy back onto the bed.   
  
“Héctor? What is it?” Imelda rushes into the room, glancing quickly to see Coco distracting the rest of the _familia_ , “Did he di-”   
  
“No.”  Héctor shook his head sighing as he stood up from the bed, “He didn't. He did wake up... just for a bit.”   
  
“What did he say? Did he say what happened to him?” Imelda touched the boy's head still worried about the impending death. But something seemed wrong about this. She had never seen anybody bear  both faces of living and the dead. She, like most people, believed coming to the Land of the Dead was like waking up in land of the living. Death was just a peaceful sleep. But she never thought of those who died a slow and painful death like  Héctor where death became a nightmare. Was this how they look when their bodies are still full of pain and regrets?   
  
“ Nothing. He was just...”  Héctor shrugged as he sat down in the chair and rubbed his brow, “ It's not like it matters anyway.”   
  
“What? What doesn't matter?” Imelda rolls her eyes as pinches the small bone where her nose was once there, “Don't tell me,  Héctor... it was the fact that he could have said something of you being of forgotten when he first sees you after death? I'm assuming he did by the look on your face. We already discussed this... hundreds of times. He never knew that you survived.”   
  
“I never thought that I would see him so... soon, not after what happened-”   
  
“Oh, Héctor... things happen, you know that.”   
  
Héctor looked up, stared deeply into Imelda's eyes, “You know what we have to do, Imelda. You know that we can't just sit here and wait till the.... I just don't want to see him-”   
  
Imelda sighed, nodding as she placed her hand on his shoulders, “I know, Héctor. I know. Once he wakes up will we'll take him to the Office of Family Reunions. Maybe that man and his devil box will help us with this. There has to be something they can do to help him.”

  
*~~~*

  
Miguel woke up with a bone-chilling gasp. He was no longer drenched to the bone, his body warm and dry. A warm light shined on him like the midday sun revealing nothing but a vast white space. the murmurs of voices filled the empty space as he slowly got to his feet. Miguel, hesitant on walking took a small one only to fall to his knees. He groans as he slowly stands up once more, looking up towards the light as he tried to distinguish the voices.   
  
_I never thought that I would see him so... soon, not after what happened-_  
  
_Oh, Héctor... things happen, you know that._   
  
Miguel's eyes widened as he recognized those voices. He cheered out loudly in victory into the empty white space. _Papá_ Héctor was remembered. He wasn't too late after all. Miguel tried to catch his bearings as he walked towards the voices.   
  
_Miguel... I'm sorry I wasn't there... wake up, please._   
  
The sound of his _Mamá's_ voice crying out for him made Miguel stop as soon as he began. “ _Mamá_ ? _Mamá_ where are you?” Miguel called out as he turned away from the voices of his great-great grandparents. Was he too happy to see his great-great-grandfather and not even notice his   _Mamá_ crying over him? Why was she crying? Where was she?   
  
“ _Mamá_ ?”   
  
_I should have gone with you to the plazá today... I just knew that- Miguel please mijo... just wake up ._ A sob echoed through the empty space, dimming the white light into grey. A cold wind rattled around Miguel, reminding him of the days were it began to rain.   
  
“ _Mamá_ why are you crying? Whats wrong?” Miguel stopped as the voices of both his mother and his great-great-grandparents merged together into an incoherent symphony full of worry and tears. Miguel felt lost, not knowing where to go, not knowing who to soothe. He pulled at his hair as he fell to his knees, tears burning his eyes as shook his head. Everything had come back to him.   
  
Cocoita.   
  
The _plazá_ .     
  
The river.   
  
He remembered it all.   
  
The riverbed formed around him, the water ahead still churning with rage. The feeling of sand and grass tickled beneath his hands as Miguel looked up to see the river ahead. He shook his head as the symphonic tune of mixed voices still echoed around him. His eyes widen as he watched _La Llorona_ drag his sister from the city towards the river, watching himself fighting to save her. This was it. This was the moment of his sacrifice. His fists clenched up in the sand as Cocoita was thrown into the raging water, helpless to do anything. Miguel stood up as he watched himself jump into the river without a second thought. He watched as their bodies bobbed against the stream like a ball thrown into a pool.   
  
He rushed towards Cocoita as he watched himself drag her away from the water. Miguel cringed in pain as he saw the spirit drag him back into the raging waters. A gasp escaped him as he fell to the ground, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Everything hurts. He couldn't breathe. Miguel watched as everything around him started to fade away, and reached out for his sister's hand as the riverbed started to fade.   
  
“It's alright, Cocoita...” He breathed out as her image faded into the white empty space that once again surrounded him.   
  
Miguel clenched his eyes shut as he tried to stop the tears of flowing down his cheeks. He felt alone, scared from what happened to him. He didn't know if he was alive or even dead. He was hearing two sides and had no idea which side to go on. Miguel just wanted to go home. He wanted to see his _familia_ again. He just wanted to play in the  once more. Miguel even wanted to go to school again. He was that desperate.   
  
From the distance of the white empty space, a dog bark echoed throughout like a summer storm. Miguel's eyes shot open just as another dog bark resonated around him sending a wave of relief down his body. “Dantè?  Dantè?” A smile began to form on his face as he slowly stood back onto his feet,  “Come here, boy!”   
  
Miguel had never seen  Dantè run so fast before in the six years he had known him. A howl escaped from the dog as he ran towards his boy. It was like he was calling for something. Miguel hoped it was him and jumped out in front of him with the biggest smile a boy with a dog could muster “ Dantè! You're here! You're really he-”   
  
Dantè didn't even seem to notice Miguel and ran straight through him. Miguel stumbled back clenched onto his stomach in shock. Everything seemed so familiar about this. It brought him back to the fateful night where he ran straight through his Mamá two years ago. “ Dantè?  Dantè?!” Miguel called out for his dog hoping he would at least listen and perhaps even see him. A scene emerged from the paw prints of the dog, slowly painting the world back to the riverfront, just moments after Miguel had watched himself be pulled back into the raging river. The scene grew more difficult to watch. His fists clenched tightly as he watched his body slowly start to sink beneath the current. His eyes widen as he watched Dantè fearlessly dive into the raging river to save him. A breath escaped him as he watched him drag him onto the riverbed, dragging him to his parents.   
  
“Wha...” He felt himself running after  Dantè who had left his body behind and dragging a glowing gold form, “No...” Miguel recognized the form it was him. He must have.... Miguel quickly lifted up his hands expecting to see bone but was shocked to see both flesh and bone. Miguel panicked as he rolled up the sleeves of his right arm to see more bone. All there was bone.  He stumbles backward as he flexed his bony hand, hoping the skin was just fading. But there was no glow. There was no skin. It was just bone.   
  
Miguel continued to stumble backward, his vision never leaving the sight of his bony hand. It couldn't be real. The world around him started to blur together as he approached the river. The once raging waters now calm and serene like a mirror. The moment his heel touched the mirror-like surface of the water, Miguel fell in. His arms reaching out for the fading sunlight as a scream rattled his young bones.  

*~~~*

  
“Luisa? Enrique?” Elena knocked on the door of Miguel's hospital room, holding a bag full of food. She sighs sadly as she opens the door hearing the humming of machines and the mechanical 'beeps' of the heart monitor. The sunlight was fading, transitioning into twilight. The room was dark, barely lit by the glow of machines and the small light above Miguel's head. The sight of her dear grandson broke her heart.   
  
Luisa sat as close as she possibly could within the sea of wires and tubes, her head resting against Miguel's bed, her brow furrowed as if nightmares plagued her sleep. She stared at the boy, seeing the empty expression hidden beneath the tubes keeping him alive. Within his folded hands held a small rosary, the red and gold beads reminding her of the Aztec Marigolds of October. His chest synthetically raising and falling as the symphony of machines still sang around him. She lowered her head and prayed silently for a moment. It was all in God's hands now.   
  
A snore tore her away from the prayer as she turned towards the window to find her son asleep in a chair near the window. His body haphazardly leaning out of the chair, his arms clinging to the soft fabric to keep him upright. He too wore a face of worried parent. An expression though he would not wear it while awake. Just like his father after all.   
  
Elena kisses the top of Enrique's head as she sets the food down next to him, “ _Ay_...You can't be sleeping like that, _mijo_... You're going to end up falling out of that chair and hurting yourself.”   
  
Almost in a sleep-like trance, Enrique sat up and adjusted his position, “ _Si Mamá... Si...”_  
  
Elena chuckles as she pats Enrique's head before turning towards Luisa, “And you _mija_... just remember you have a little girl for you at home. She needs her _mamá_ too. This is in God's hands, Luisa... remember that.”  
  
She stopped in front of Miguel's bed motioned the cross against her chest, “Miguel, _mi mijo_... I-” She lowered her head not sure if there was anything to be said to him. He was a hero from what Socorro had told them. But there are some things that are to be said when their souls are in their bodies. She kissed her fingertips and sent her love to the boy before leaving the room. There were things to be done back at home.

*~~~*

  
As the twilight kissed the sky of the Land of the Dead, the bright colors flourishing as the _alebrijes_ took flight in the night sky, Héctor picked up his guitar and started to play for the boy as the family worried over the boy who was asleep in his room.   
  
But somewhere out the vast towering colorful landscape, two small boys whose clothing were starting to tatter. Their markings had faded from time but still held reminisce about their loving and devoted personalities. The walked alone as they always did since the moment they died. The older one guarding the younger as big brothers always did. The nightlife started to come alive around them, still, they walked together ignoring the questions from parents of living children. They didn't mind. Death had taught them to forgive and to love their family. Death had taught them more things than they had in life. They had forgiven their _Mamá_ who had tossed them into a river to die. They had forgiven their _Papá_ who never found them when he died. They were grateful to those who knew their story. Grateful for the ones who kept them alive. But yet they walk the Land of the Dead searching for their _Mamá_ who still loves them in death still. She had to be looking for them in this massive land.   
  
The boys stopped in a small empty _plazá_ , their hands still clenching each other tightly as they looked up towards the night sky to watch the colorful _alebrijes_ fly.


	5. Visions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the delay of the chapter. I had some personal family matters that had to be taken car of before I had a chance to sit down and write. 
> 
> Thanks again to my lovely beta Calliopes_Quill for reading and editing this chapter so quickly. Don't know what I would do without you!

 The soft familiar cords of a guitar played around him as Miguel slowly started to come to, cool water kissed his entire body. A sense of serenity hit like him like a wave, nearly coaxing him to sleep. Sleep. That's what he needed. The events of the day had exhausted him on all fronts. His mind, his body, and his soul seemed to on the brink of exhaustion. He closed his eyes to listen to the strums of a guitar as water gently kissed his skin, cradling him like a mother with her child. He nearly did fall back to sleep when the sounds of legs striding through the water coaxed him out of serenity.

“Wake up child.” A voice cold as ice spoke chilling him to bone, “Wake up.”

The music around him stopped, the world seemed to stand still. Quiet as the dead. Miguel raised up his right hand, hoping the revealed bone would be gone. He took a deep breath and then opened his eyes.

The soft strums of a guitar filled the room once more as a warm orange light greeted him. His eyes stared at the white bones of his hand, watching as he slowly bend and flex his fingers. Tears burned in his eyes as felt his face with his left feeling the distinct line of flesh to bone. Feeling and memorizing each distinct markings and details that revealed his personality markings on his face that showed his personality. Miguel clenched his eyes tightly, hoping it was still a dream. A dream within a dream. Almost like that movie he watched with some friends called Inception or something like that. Miguel slowly opened his eyes still seeing the warm light reflected against the old wallpaper that were adorned with antique _fotós_ The soft strums of a guitar stopped playing causing him to panic. It was the only thing that seemed to soothe him in this nightmare.

“Miguel? You awake?”

Miguel silently turned his head towards voice, watching as Héctor slowly placed his guitar on the ground near his feet. He turned back to stare at the white bones of his right hand, slowly lowering his arm. His body trembled in the bed as he choked out a sob, tears streaming down his cheeks. He just couldn't take the sick dream his body was producing. How was this happening to him? How was he dead but yet alive at the same time? He started rubbing his eyes, trying to rid of the tears but they never seemed to end. Héctor stood up from his seat, staring at the door briefly before going to comfort the boy.

“ _Papá_ Héctor... all I was trying to do was to save Socorro...” Miguel cried as he threw himself onto Héctor the moment he sat onto the bed, startling the old skeleton as he wrapped his old bone arms around him, “But she pulled me...”

“Its alright Miguel...” Héctor whispered, his eyes widening in horror at the thought of Miguel's current state. So many thoughts, so many worries and anxieties plagued his body as he found himself holding Miguel a little tighter. His would be death was a horrible but yet noble one if he had the intention to save his sister. It was act that he was proud of him for doing so.

“No. No it isn't. _Papá_ Héctor … It was her. It had to be her.”

Héctor, stared at the boy, his bones rattled of fear as he heard the desperation in his voice. More questions than answers bubbled up at this point. He nearly forgotten to take a breath as his rib cage, rattled, “Who's _her, chamaco_?”

“ _La Llorona_. She's rea-”

“Wh-” Héctor stood up from his spot on the bed, staring at the boy speechless and afraid. He remember the stories of her in life. He remembered the Sister at the orphanage telling them to always travel in pairs and to not go to the river. He closed his eyes as screams of his best friend Timoeto was mysteriously pulled under the current of the river when they were dared to touch it. He remembered nearly drowning just to save him. A cold laugh that froze his joints, a lady dressed in white plagued his dreams for years. It was almost like a song pulling back to the river, luring him to touch the raging waters.

“Héctor?” A tear filled cry pulled him back from his memories, his eyes slowly opening to see two tear filled brown eyes, the white of his eyes red from the tears, “Did I-”

Héctor shook his head as he hugged Miguel as tight as his body could possibly could, “No... No you didn't do anything wrong. It’s just this sounds all too familiar. I just need to...” a sorrowful sigh escaped from him as he tried to focus his thoughts. It all seemed to real now. A legend of a woman in white who drowned children as a way to cope of the jealous actions of one man and the death of her sons. The sense of remorse for not being able to help the boy pulled at his bones. He was family and they were suppose to support and protect them. How could he protect a boy when a spirit is slowly killing him? He felt even more helpless than before. Never a good feeling for an old skeleton holding a lot regret from life.

“Why do I look like this? If I died... I should be like...”

“We'll fix this.” Héctor stated firmly as he pulled away from the boy, “We'll figure this out and send you right back to the Land of the Living like we did last time, yes?” he tried not to show his wariness of it all. There was a chance that he could not fix this, the chance that the boy would die and live here for the long run. A thirteen year old boy that would never grow up, that would never experience love of another, the birth of h is child. So many things that would be gone in an instant. But at least, Miguel would not be forgotten like Timoteo was.

Héctor needed to distract himself from the possibility of his grandson's death. He forced a smile on his face as he stood up, “You hungry, _mijo_? I'm sure there are some people who would like to see you right now.”

Miguel wiped his face with his flesh covered hand as he looked at his great-great- grandfather. He felt empty, lacking of any sort of emotion or desires. He nods silently as he slowly slid off of the bed, his knees buckling as he stood onto his feet.

“Easy... Easy...” Héctor instructed as he stopped the boy from falling onto the floor, “ Just take one step at a time, Miguel. You don't need to rush yourself when you're not ready.”

*~~~~*

Coco sat quietly in the courtyard as she stared up towards the night sky watching the bright array of colors from the _alebrijes_ flying around the towering city landscape. She was sure Pepita was up there somewhere, but she couldn't quite see. A majestic sight it was, watching all the creatures of fly around like falling stars at night. It gave her time to reflect on the things that she thought was never possible. It gave her time to reflect on the life had while alive. A smile formed on her face as she remembered Miguel as a small boy, so full of life. It was in the days before her memory had started to fail her. His smile always brighten up the room even when her sad memories of her Papá plagued her thoughts. On the days where light filled her life, she could recall giving the small boy small instruments to play without his parents or Elena looking. She was probably one of the reasons why they had a hard time keeping them from music. The other reason at the time was his love of her father's murderer- Ernesto de La Cruz. He always seemed to have look up to him in someway or form. But when he was caught having instruments or playing music in the casa, she always felt bad and had an urge to comfort the boy when the one thing that brought him joy were destroyed and tossed into the garbage.

It wasn't his fault that he had a love for music. He was only taking after his great-great grandfather. She saw no problem with that. But when an entire family is against one thing, it proved difficult to try to encourage a certain talent when everyone else had banned it from their lives. But Miguel lived, thrived, and yet proved his family wrong from his mysterious quest of knowledge two years ago. What a grand day it was, a day where her Papá had returned to memory and easing her transition into death a peaceful one like she had always desired to have.

A sigh escaped from her tired bones as she closed her eyes enjoying the warm summer night air and the peaceful night after a heavy emotional storm. The slight creak of an old door pulled her from her peaceful state, perhaps it was her _Tios_ Oscar and Felipe checking on her because she was the one who expressed her emotions more than her _Mamá_ . Her eyes slowly opened to find her _Papá_ and her dear grandson as they walked slowly out of the bedroom.

“Miguel?” She slowly stood up from her seat, walked slowly towards the boy, her eyes scanned his face feeling a wave of guilt overcome her, “oh _mijo_...” All she could see was a boy who had one foot in each world and brown eyes that were once filled with so much joy and excitement of the world were now dark,empty and broken as shattered panes of glass.

Miguel stared at his _Mamá_ Coco as she walked up to him. A sad smile formed on his face as he rushed over to her embracing her loving arms once more. It had been two years since she died. Two years since his biggest fan took her final breath in life. She was there since the beginning of his journey into music. Even when her memory started to fade and the toll of her long life slowly pulled her away from the grandmother he used to know- Miguel was always by her side. No matter what. “I missed you so much _Mamá_ Coco.” He whispered softly as he felt her bony fingers rub against his back

“Ay...what happened _mijo_? You had us worried sick.”

Miguel slowly pulls away from her, looking down with guilty eyes. He shook his head, his hands covered his face in shame. Her heart broke as she stared at the skeletal hand and flesh hiding the boy who gave her _Papá_ back to her memories. A boy who never went without a smile in someway. stood broken at her feet. Oh how she wanted to pick up the shattered pieces of the boy who she watch grow into a wonderful _músico_ in her final days and mend them back together.

She kissed the top of Miguel's head as she tried to have him look at her. Coco ran her fingers through his hair like she used to when he was a young child , “Miguel, what is it _mijo_? Why won't you talk to me? It had been so long, _mijo_. Just say something to me. Ease my tired bones and tell me. What happened to you?”

With his face still hidden beneath his hands, Miguel still slowly backed away from her, shaking his head. His voice silent from the pain that he wore on his face. Coco's eyes drifted towards her _Papá_ as he pulled the worn straw hat from his head and held it against his chest, his eyes drifted towards the ground.

“ _Papá_? Do you know what happened to Miguel? _Papá, por favor_ tell me...” Coco felt her voice drift off into silence as he pulled her into an embrace whispering a word that sent chills down her spine. A name of a story that she herself believed to be exactly what it was. A story. A story that her _Mamá_ had told her, who in turn told her children and so on and so forth. _La Llorona_ \- the woman dressed in white.

 So many stories that were told about her throughout _Mèxico_. So many versions of one woman but the story remain the same. She lead young children towards a river or a deep body of water and drowned them. This is what happened to her grandson. This is why he refused to speak to her. It was because he was afraid of what was to become of him. He was not fully dead and he was not fully alive. He was just there. Trapped in a state of limbo while he awaited his fate. A fate that could resulted in him staying in the Land of the Dead until the End of Days.

 No more words were spoken between father and daughter. Their eyes focused on the boy in front of them. Coco pulled the boy close to her, hugging him as tight as she possibly could. Even in death, family should always support family. When one is broken then they repair them, rising them up to join the others. Death would be so lonely without family. Out of everyone that she knew, Papá would know that the best.

 “We're going to take him to the Office of Family Reunions.” Héctor strained to get the words out in a soft voice, “They would seem to know more than we would here. I want to send him home if at all possible. It’s'... too early for him to be here.”

 “It’s not just ' I ' _Papá_. It's ' we'.” Coco corrected as she looked up from the boy's ruffled hair, “We all want him to go back home.”

 “I know, but what if he-”

 Child'slaughter filled the air around Miguel as he looked down at his feet, his eyes still focused on the white bones of his hands. The voices of his family sang to him but quickly dimmed as child's laughter grew louder. Miguel looked up to see Héctor and Mamá Coco froze in mid-conversation, he could see the worry and sadness in their eyes. A child's death was no easy task to handle especially when the child is still part of the living.

“Look Arturo! Do you see that large horned cat? I would love to have a spirit guide like that one.”

“No silly... those are _alebrijes_ they are supposed to be protectors and guardians.”

Miguel looked over towards the open gate to watch as two small boys holding each other's hand walk passed the gate. Their bodies small from their age of death, one of them barely even appeared to be five years old. Their clothes were starting to fray at the edges and their shoes were opening at the toes. Miguel knew that the boys had been here for a very long time by their appearance but they were still very loved in the living world. But something about them pulled at him, they were familiar but yet not. He felt his feet drag him towards the boys as they paused to look up at the night sky.

 _Go to them...._ The same female voice that forced him awake was telling him to go to the boys. They were important to the voice in someway.

 

“Do you think they would be able bring Mamá back here from the river?” the youngest one stated as he pulled at his brother's arm, “I'm sure she misses us... it’s been so long. How long has it been since she killed us?”

 

“I don't know. But it's been too long...”

 

River. A mother killing her children. The words seemed to come together like words on a page. Its mere statement freezing Miguel's bones as he could feel the cold water rush over him. Miguel blinked as he reached out for the older boy but they seemed to fade from his sight like a vision from his mind. Was this what happened to him as he laid in the Living World dying? Visions of dead children talking about their mother who killed them? Was he going crazy? Miguel stood at the gate, his hand still extended out to touch the child who was only a figment of his mind. Their voices still echoing in his head, as a smell of the river flooded his senses. It was like he was thrown back into the raging waters

“Miguel? Where are you going _chamaco_?”

The smell of the river faded as Miguel was pulled back into his mind as he felt a tug on his pants to find Dantè pulling him away from the gate. Héctor and _Mamá_ Coco stared at him like he was running away from the problems. Most of the _familia_ were watching him now. Miguel lowered his hand, confused and disappointed.

“Miguel?”

“I-” the voice that seemed to haunt him plagued him with laughs, forcing words to stutter out like rainfall, “I don't know what's happening. I-” his voice failed him when he needed it the most. Dantè whined loudly as nudged Miguel's hand to pet him. There were so many times where Dantè made him feel better. On the days were he was caught at the _plazá_ to the days were everything seemed longer than expected. Dantè was always there for him. But it seemed not even him could be there when his mind starts to wander to the point where a forgotten voice is forcing him to see things that weren't really there.

“Help me...” He whispered as tears burned in his eyes just as the loving embrace of family wrapped him in their loving embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm about 25% or so done with the next chapter. It's a difficult one to write because its all about Socorro and her dealing with it all, her fears and worries . I got to get into the mind of a toddler for this one. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and see you in the next update.


	6. Socorro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cocorita faces the night alone without Miguel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay of the chapter, I have no wifi at my house and the closest place within walking distance with wifi is a restaurant two miles away from my house. Money is tight so I can't go to the restaurant every time I have a chapter to be betaed or to update. 
> 
> Thanks again to Calliope's Quill for betaed this chapter and to help with ideas when I do have one. Thanks for also understanding that Real Life and Adulting Sucks and that I demand a refund from it.

“Are  _ Mamá  _ and  _ Papá  _ coming home?” Cocoita asked as  _ Abuelita  _ tucked her into her bed, her hair free from its braid and laid out on her shoulders in small gentle curls.    
  
Her pink  _ princessa  _ pajamas showed smiling faces and extravagant dresses would always make her smile but a scared look remained on her face. Her day near the river terrified her to pieces. Water terrified her to death now. Anything from watching her  _ Tio  _ Berto drinking from a cup full of water to even her bath time made her scream out of fear and her cries for her  _ hermano _ . Everyone around her seemed to be protecting her from the outside world. Their hands wrapped tightly around hers, her feet barely touching the ground. Had she become one of those dolls with the glass head? She didn't want to be guarded like a toy by her family. She wanted to be protected by her big brother who was really sick and looked like a robot in a bed.    
  
“Probably after you're asleep,  _ mija _ . They have to make sure Miguel is alright too.”   
  
“But what about me?” She asked innocently as she thought of her parents forgetting about her like the stories Miguel used to tell her about people in the Land of the Dead who had no family.   
  
“What about you, Socorro?”   
  
“ _ Mamá y Papá _ they are with Miguel. Will I get to see him too?”   
  
Abuelita paused as she kissed the top of her head, releasing a sad sigh. Cocorita didn't know what that meant but she knew someone made it when they were sad about something like when  _ Abuelita  _ watched a movie that made her cry. Did it mean that she was sad? “Maybe,  _ mija _ . Remember what I said at the hospital?  _ Si _ ? Miguel is very sick and he... he has to sleep for a while like you do. He needs his rest and so does you. But he needs to sleep longer than you. Both of you had a very tough day. A very tiring day.”   
  
Cocorita sniffled as she rubbed her eyes and looked up to her  _ Abuelita _ . For as long as she could remember, Miguel had always tucked her in and sang her a song. A song that everyone knew in the town but it was special for the family especially for her namesake. Miguel told her a story about the song and how it was important to him. He used to tell her many stories about it and the person who made it- her great-great-grandfather. He wanted to make sure that he would never be forgotten.    
  
“ _ Abuelita _ ...can you sing me the special song?” Cocorita asked softly as she pulled her arms out from beneath the blanket.    
  
“I...uh...”  _ Abuelita  _ ran her fingers through her hair as she tore her gaze away from Cocorita, “what song,  _ mija _ ?”    
  
“ _ Abuelita _ , you know the song. Miguel sings it to me before bedtime.”   
  
“Oh... that one.”  _ Abuelita  _ rubs her cheeks softly as she tried to come with the words. Her brow furrowed in a mixture of uncertainty and doubt. For so long, the lyrical phrases of songs were banned from her life. So long that she had a cloud of self-doubt that she could be able to produce a simple song that hung over her like a dark storm cloud. She never said that she like music to her family, she is just most accepting of it. A task that she thought that would never occur in her lifetime or the next.    
  
She sat there staring at her granddaughter who eagerly waiting for the timely tradition. The words slowly bubbling up in her throat waiting to come up. Could she even do it? It had to be easy to do so. Miguel did it all the time, walking around the  _ Plazá  _ singing songs and playing the guitar. It shouldn't be too difficult just to sing a simple song.  _ Abuelita  _ opened her mouth in anticipation of the words to come out but they couldn't for she still doubted herself. A tired sigh escaped from her as she leaned down to kiss Cocorita's head, “Maybe tomorrow Socorro, okay? You should get some rest.”   
  
Cocorita looked sadly at the foot of her bed and nodded. Maybe tomorrow Miguel would be well enough to come home so he could sing to her. She pulled the blanket it up to her chin and closed her eyes. All she can do was hope that maybe her brother would come home and sing to her once more.    
  
_ Abuelita  _ gently pets the young girl's head before she turned off the light to let her sleep. As the door quietly shut into place, Cocorita sat up as the dark embraced her small room. It was odd to see her room which was full of bright colors, toys, and hand-drawn pictures now surrounded by nothing but pure empty darkness. A small cry escaped from her as she pulled her blanket overhead as she tried to get used to the darkness. It wasn't the same anymore. Miguel wasn't there to sing to her before she fell asleep. It didn't feel right.    
  
Cocorita sat in her bed, unable to sleep as the thoughts of her big brother filled her head. Was he ever coming home? Was he going to become a robot man like the shows Miguel usually watched on Saturdays? Were  _ Mamá  _ and  _ Papá  _ always going to be sad? Was it her fault?   
  
Another small cry escaped from her as she remembered the riverfront. She was a bad girl for following a stranger. She was a bad girl for leaving Miguel's side in the  _ Plazá _ . She was a bad girl for having Miguel get hurt. It was all her fault that Miguel was sick in the hospital because she didn’t want to listen to her elders. 

  
Cocorita closed her eyes, tightening her grip on her blanket as she tried to sleep. Her body refusing to relax in the comfort of her bed. Restless sleep full of tears and worries plagued the little girl. She opened her eyes with a gasp to be welcomed in a moonlit room different from her own. All the color from the room seemed to be drained out and empty. Unlit lanterns lined the walls, alongside of empty picture frames. A lingering scent of musk and dusk filled her senses as goosebumps to form on her skin.   A cold breeze from the open window chilled her skin, her hands reaching for the blanket to find nothing to keep her warm. Her lip quivered as she hugged herself in the unfamiliar place as voices from outside trickled in.   
  
“Maria, you were grief-sicken about your husband leaving you for Fredrico Sierra's daughter. But that doesn't give you the right to drown your own sons.”   
  
Cocorita trembled as voices grew louder,  her small body crawling into the corner to hide. The room slowly beginning to light up as one by one each lantern flickered to life. Two bodies slowly formed inside the room, their bodies were dark like shadows on a wall. One was laying on the bed, the other sitting in the chair right next to Cocorita. A cry escaped from her small body as the bodies came fully into view. Two women, one laying in bed sick with grief. Her expression empty, her eyes red with tears, her dress was a simple white dressing gown. The other was an older woman wearing a concerned face, her eyes red with tears. Her black hair streaked with grey, her dress once a vibrant blue and green now faded from the sun and covered with dust. The older woman shook her head as she took a hold of Maria's hand   
  
“Maria, answer me. People are thinking you're mad.”   
  
Maria lowered her head, tears streaming down her face, “where are my sons? Where are my boys? It isn't like them for them not to come ho-”   
  
“Maria!” The older woman shook Maria's shoulders in desperation, her expression morphing from concern to anger, “You knew what you did. But why them? Why my precious grandsons?”   
  
“ _ Mamá _ ? Have you seen them? I last saw them by the river.”   
  
Cocorita's eyes shot open, her body shivering from the cold summer's night. She looked around in hope to find the comfort in her room to find herself in her brother's room. Her body shuddered as a cry escaped from her tired body, her mind confused on how she came from her room to her brother's room. Posters of famous  _ músicos  _ lined the walls, small trinkets of winning contests from singing, and the photo of Miguel holding her when she was just born. It seemed lifeless without him in here to comfort her at night. The window above his desk was open, revealing the bright full moon, the distant river glistening like a gem under the bright light.  She curled herself up beneath the blankets and pillows that carried his scent, faded. It was like he had never existed. As she closed her eyes, the feeling of exhaustion overtaking her small body. A loud distant cry filled the room followed by the sound of rushing water.    
  
_ Where are my children? Where are they?! _

__  
  
*~~~~*

  
“She's in here,  _ Mamá _ !”   
  
Cocorita slowly opens her eyes, squinting at the bright sunlight filtering in through the open window, the early morning summer breeze bringing in the smell of the riverfront. She sniffled as tried to hide the uneasy churning of her stomach as her  _ Tio  _ Berto lead her  _ Abuelita  _ into Miguel's bedroom   
  
“ _ Mija _ ! You had me so worried!”  _ Abuelita  _ exclaimed as she encased the young girl in her arms. The familiar smell of  chorizo and flour from the tortillas of her  _ Abuelita  _ calmed Cocorita as she snuggled against the flour stained cooking apron, the fine white powder staining her face as tears bubbled to the surface, “I had though  _ La Llorona _ had taken you to the river.”   
  
_ La Llorona _ .    
  
A cry escaped her as a memory of the wailing woman tossing her into the river in front of her _hermano_ as he tried to save her. It was her fault that Miguel was sick and why  _ Mamá  _ and  _ Papá  _ hadn't come home yet to soothe her cries.    
  
_ Abuelita  _ tried her best to soothe the crying child, her hands rubbing her back and running her fingers through her hair. A woman of her age would know exactly how to soothe a crying child but everything she did made the cries grow louder.  _ Abuelita  _ looked up from the child, holding her tight as her body could, her eyes scanning the posters of  _ músico  _ and the  _ fotós  _ of Miguel. Then she knew why the young girl was crying in her arms, why she was found in a room that was not her own. She kissed the top of her head, whispering into the fine threads of hair as she hugged her tightly    
  
“Miguel will wake up soon,  _ Mija _ . He would never leave his  _ hermana  _ to grow up alone and unprotected. I promise.”


End file.
